


The Last King of Orzammar

by lea_hazel



Series: The Grey Warden's Guide [7]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Community: fic_promptly, Duty, Dwarven Politics, Family, Gen, Orzammar, Sister-Sister Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-14 07:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1257547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natia visits her sister and nephew in Orzammar for the second-to-last time. Politics happens, and family obligations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last King of Orzammar

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt, "last of the kings".

Natia had been to Orzammar three times since becoming a Grey Warden. Once during the Blight, a second time during her brief and bloody tenure as Warden-Commander, and a third time just before she disappeared. Endrin had been barely three. She could not, did not expect him to remember her. He stared blankly as his mother rushed across the throne room and hugged her, crying and babbling excitedly. Rica grabbed her hand and dragged her towards him. Natia tried to imagine herself in his shoes, how he must see her: a rough-looking stranger who looked nothing like his mother, armed and branded. 

He approached her with caution. She made no sudden moves. Rica looked from one to the other, her elation suddenly edged with wariness. 

"Warden," said Endrin, inclining his head formally. 

For a moment, he seemed a carbon copy of his father. She had to look again to see some of Rica in him, and of their mother. "Prince Endrin," she said, crossing her arms and bowing slightly. "I trust your father the King is well?" 

Endrin looked to his mother for answers, but only briefly. "He is as well as can be expected," he repled with a grave sigh. 

Natia bit back a smile and answered with as much gravity as she could muster. 

Finally Rica dragged her away for a private talk, dispatching her son to his fencing lesson. 

"Is he always so serious?" asked Natia. 

Rica laughed. "Oh, he's only nervous to see you. I've told him so many stories about his aunt over the years, I'm afraid I must have made you sound a little intimidating." 

"I wish I'd been around more when he was younger," said Natia, "but, oh, there was just so much to do." 

"You've been traveling," said Rica. "It's all right, I understand. I never expected you to make yearly visits, I know you must have been glad to see the last of Orzammar." 

"House Brosca," said Natia, and snorted. 

"They still hold Provings in your honor," said Rica. 

"I know." 

An awkward silence fell over them. 

"Eight years," said Natia finally. "I really never meant for it to be this long. Last I saw him, he was little enough to hold in my arms." 

"He's still just a child," said Rica quietly. 

"Is Bhelen as ill as I heard?" asked Natia. 

Rica nodded, her mouth pinched. 

"Leave," said Natia. 

Her sister started and looked at her. "What?" 

"Leave this place," she said simply. "What remains to you here after he dies? Do you really want to watch Endrin go into the Deep Roads to prove himself? Or worse, fall to the backstabbing deshyrs and their assassins. It's only a few short years before he gets roped up in it all. Just pack up and leave before he gets caught in their web." 

"I won't lie," said Rica, "the thought crossed my mind more than once. I have money of my own and contacts on the surface." 

"You could always claim to be related to the Hero of the Fifth Blight," said Natia, grinning. 

Rica smiled back, but she was pale and drawn. 

"You don't really want your son to be king, do you?" asked Natia. "Rica, we don't owe Orzammar anything, and if we ever did, we've more than repaid that debt. He's ten years old. Why should he be responsible for keeping this dying empire alive?" 

"Not him," said Rica. "Me." 

She was too stunned to respond to that. 

"Nat," said Rica. "Please, say something." 

Natia blinked, trying to compose herself. "I don't know what to say. Seems you've made up your mind, didn't you?" 

"Yeah," said Rica. 

She sighed and let her head drop into her open hands. 

"When the time comes," said Rica, "I want to send Endrin away. Somewhere safe. Give me your word that you'll find a place for him, somewhere where our name means something." 

Natia didn't ask what name. "I promise." 

"Swear it," Rica insisted. 

"I swear by the Stone that Endrin Aeducan will be provided for after my death," said Natia, "upon my honor as a Grey Warden." 

Rica nodded, satisfied. 

"When?" asked Natia. 

"What do you mean?" 

"When," she said slowly, "do you expect Bhelen to die?" 

Rica hesitated. "I don't know," she said, "but the physicians say he's not likely to have much more than a year in him." 

"I suppose I'll need to send out letters," said Natia, "and make the final arrangements in person. Don't worry, I won't stay away long." 

"Thank you," said Rica softly, "for everything." 

Natia swallowed the rest of what she had to say and just hugged her sister silently.


End file.
